


I’ll See You Again Someday (and tell you that i still love you)

by BookdragonBeth



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Jesper, Aged-Up Wylan, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Flashbacks, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gambling, Gambling Addiction, Goodbyes, I hope?? I’m bad at writing flirting, Kissing, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Post-Canon, Reunions, Spoilers For King Of Scars, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-05 15:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookdragonBeth/pseuds/BookdragonBeth
Summary: Jesper didn’t plan to be gone for as long as he was. Time, the most valuable currency, has slipped through his fingers and raced past him. He’s changed. And now, returning to Ketterdam, he can no longer fit into his old life. He feels that he has changed too much for his old friends. That his time gone has created an impossible distance. But he misses them. Ketterdam. His friends. And him-Wylan.An AU where Jesper didn’t stay with Wylan after Crooked Kingdom.





	I’ll See You Again Someday (and tell you that i still love you)

When Jesper took that first step back into Ketterdam, it felt like he had been thrown back into the past. All of his senses were attacked. The sound of Kerch filled the harbour, the language surrounding him once more. But he certainly hadn’t missed the smell. Ketterdam was always a _dirty_ city. The streets, the buildings, even the people.

After exchanging his goodbyes to the captain of the boat, Jesper made his way through the harbour. The sheer noise of Ketterdam, however, was unforgettable. Stalls were piled on top of each other, their vendors shouting their wares and customers desperately haggling. Dozens upon dozens of people charging through the crowd to reach their destination; workers filling boats with supplies; tourists regretting their choice of holiday; goods transported on carts; immigrants searching for work; employees directing people to the bright addicting gleam of the Barrel; and, naturally, the occasional pickpocket. 

A part of himself he accepted he could never be rid of criticised his choice of arrival. Sure, he could have chosen to dock in Fifth Harbour knowing the Dregs would receive payment. But _really_? It was located on the other side of Ketterdam and First Harbour was a much shorter walk especially with all of his luggage he has to carry because _no Nina I can’t leave any of my clothes behind in Ravka_. At least this way, it wasn’t too long before he arrived.

Walking into the Booksplein was another experience in itself. He remembers his first time, new to Ketterdam but awed by the architecture of the various cafès and libraries. The quaintness of the cobbled area, the soft splashing of the fountain and hum of chatter as students went about their day. And he remembers his last time here, nervous about seeing his Da after all that had happened but grateful to be with-

No.

He couldn’t think about _him_. Not yet. He had to focus on other things first.

Jesper had changed. He knew this. But Ketterdam remains the same as the day he left, all those years ago. He knew he could never be the Jesper he was when he was here again, and he didn’t want to be, but, now that he was here again, he feared that he had changed _too_ much for Ketterdam and its occupants. His life here and in the Barrel felt so long ago, he didn’t know if it was permanently in the past. Whether he has changed too much to be allowed to stay. Whether he was wanted any longer. But it was too late now.

He was here. In Ketterdam. In the Booksplein. In university. He was here.

_Again_.

~~~

Not one person stopped him walking into the Slat even though he hasn’t been around in years. He would need to have a conversation with Kaz about security. When Jesper knocked on the office door he didn’t wait for a response before entering.

“You do realise the purpose of knocking is for the other person to decide whether they want to let you in.” 

Even after all this time, there wasn’t even a flicker of surprise across Kaz’s features as he raised his eyes from his work at his desk. Jesper vaguely wondered who had reported his arrival back to the leader of the Dregs.

“And deny you a moment longer without this face?”

And- _there_. A twitch of a lip, a glimmer in an eye. For Kaz, it was practically a smile.

“What? No welcome party?” Jesper made his way into the room. “It’s been five years and I don’t even get a ‘welcome back, Jesper’.”

“Welcome back, Jesper.”

He paused.

Okay, it seemed a lot more had changed in the past years than he was expecting.

“How have the Dregs been coping without their best sharpshooter?”

“I’d say just fine. Looking at our ledgers, probably better.” Kaz gestured to the accounts spread across the table before him. It was then that Jesper noticed that Kaz wasn’t wearing his gloves. He tried not to stare.

“Well, if you have any need for a couple of pistols on a job, send me a message.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows. “Won’t be too busy with homework?”

Jesper laughed. “I’m still a member of the Dregs, I’ve got the tattoo to prove it, and a bit of extra pocket change never hurt anyone.”

Of course, Kaz already knew he had enrolled in the university. Saints, he probably knew the time of his lecture Tuesday morning _and_ has blackmail against all of his professors.

“So, why did you decide to come back _now_?” Kaz questioned. Turns out he isn’t some omniscient being. “Besides reuniting with your old gang. We thought you had permanently abandoned us to learn party tricks with the Ravkans.”

“Grisha training isn’t _party tricks_. But, as you said before, to get an education. The reason I ever came to Ketterdam in the first place.” Jesper wandered around the office, unable to suppress his old nervous habit. Kaz had been there for, well, everything. Every shot. Every scar. Every gamble. While Jesper’s old crush had disappeared a long time ago, he wouldn’t pretend he didn’t admire Kaz. Everyone felt some mixture of awe and fear towards the bastard of the Barrel, exactly the way he wanted it. So, Jesper was allowed to need to release some restless energy when he was talking to his old boss for the first time in a long while. Too long.

“That’s it?” He seemed almost surprised.

Jesper met Kaz’ eyes, simply stating: “Yeah.”

Kaz shrugged but watched him carefully, calculating. It seemed his scheming face hadn’t changed too much over the years. There was a pause. And then-

“I saw Wylan last week.”

Jesper blinked. He repressed any other reaction to that name. That name. That name.

“Oh?” Was all he managed.

It’s been a long time since he heard that name.

“We meet for dinner quite frequently.”

Nina had given up on bringing that name up to Jesper years ago.

“Oh?”

It had been a long time since he thought about that name.

“To talk business, mostly.”

That name has not been present in his thoughts for years.

“Oh?”

Jesper was lying.

“Yes. He’s built up quite a business empire in your absence.”

Jesper hummed noncommittally, as his eyes scanned the spines of books distributed across Kaz’s wall. But apparently, Kaz wasn’t going to accept Jesper’s silent response.

“Does he know you’re back?”

“That depends on whether whichever Dreg who reported my arrival to you decided to gossip.”

“You should-“

“Well, look at this,” he abruptly cut Kaz off, something that before would have felt like personally signing his death sentence, “never thought I’d see the day where Kaz offers personal advice.” The man in question merely narrowed his eyes at Jesper critically.

It was still a warmer reception than he was expecting. Or deserved.

~~~

Jesper couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he stepped into the sunshine. Warmth filled his very being. He had just handed in his latest essay and Jesper, to say the least, was confident. He had forgotten that feeling of satisfaction after completing good work. It differed from the rush of adrenaline from a fight or a gamble, more long lasting and stable than that short lived high he had spent so long running after.

The sun blanketed the Booksplein and had subsequently brought out students and professors in hoards. Café customers spilled out onto tables and chairs filling the courtyard. Students usually so busy, hurrying to their next lecture or stumbling home from a night out, finally taking the time to just _stop_. And breathe. 

Jesper made his way through the crowds, waving towards a few familiar faces. His eyes meandered across the groups of friends talking together and individuals hunched over books. Barely glancing at a person before his attention drifted away. Never lingering. Never staying. Until suddenly-

Sunlight danced across constellations of freckles. Highlighting those red-gold curls which even the years had not changed. A new purposeful stride had replaced the lost look of the boy in the Barrel. Yet a familiar satchel was still hung at his hip. He had changed. More than Jesper was expecting. But not completely. Jesper would recognise his merchling anywhere. He could never forget-

Wylan.

Suddenly Jesper’s eyes met clear blue. Wylan froze, staring in his direction.

And even though everyone around them continued on, Jesper’s attention was caught. They almost faded into the background, the noise quieting. All Jesper could see was Wylan.

He took a step forward.

Saints, what was he doing? He wasn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t expected to see Wylan this soon. He knew it would happen eventually but he had intended to plan a whole speech before seeing the merchling again. Yet he couldn’t deny that other part of his brain. The part that was filled with memories of the Ice Court and what came after. The part that had urged him to return. The part that was elated, joyous, ecstatic and any other synonym for happy at seeing Wylan again. 

The part that made him take another step forward.

And another.

And another.

He reached Wylan both too quickly and not soon enough.

“Hi.”

Wylan stood taller than when he last saw him. Still nowhere near Jesper’s height, of course.

“Hey.” A blush rose on Wylan’s cheeks. He hadn't changed so much then. Jesper almost released a sigh of relief. “I didn’t-“ Wylan paused. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Jesper shrugged. “I’ve only just got back.”

“For how long?” He questioned.

“Well, for the next three years definitely. After that? I haven’t decided yet.”

Wylan nodded, awkward tension filling the air as neither of them knew how to break it.

“It’s, um, good to see you again,” Jesper began in an attempt to ease them both.

“And you too,” Wylan said, his eyes making contact before darting away. Jesper saw Wylan take a breath, seemingly deciding something, before returning his focus to Jesper. “Do you want to grab a drink or something? To talk.” He glanced at his watch. “I have time. And-” He offered Jesper a small smile. “And I’d really like to catch up.”

Jesper returned his timid smile.

“I’d like that.”

~~~

_Jesper smiled softly as he watched Wylan in the kitchen. Inej had already gone up to the room Wylan directed her to, one with roof access he was sure. Whether the Wraith was actually sleeping or watching the havoc they had unleashed on Ketterdam following the auction was debatable. But it did leave him alone with Wylan._

_The servants had been sent home but, after Wylan confessed to his hunger, he directed them to the kitchen; confidently moving around and grabbing the necessary ingredients. It seemed as though he had memorised the recipe. As if Jesper needed another reason to be impressed by Wylan’s intelligence._

_Jesper stepped forward as Wylan struggled to reach the flour on the highest shelf. Placing a hand on Wylan’s back, he easily picked up the bag. He couldn’t resist winking at Wylan as he placed the flour on the counter in front of them and was rewarded by a dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks._

_As Wylan turned to mix the ingredients, Jesper carefully wrapped his arms around him, mindful of his injuries. Closing the gap between his chest and Wylan’s back, Jesper rested his chin on top of Wylan’s head and pressed a kiss to his curls. And, if he felt Wylan’s breath catch, for once, he didn’t say anything._

_If only because Wylan could likely feel Jesper’s pounding heart._

_Jesper watched Wylan work, enjoying a moment of peace for once in his life. He had been in constant motion for a long time, a wind-up toy with no end. But, suddenly, he’s stopped. And, although he can still feel the adrenaline from the last few weeks, it didn’t feel as bad as he feared. To just take a minute, after weeks of non-stop action and danger, to just breathe and enjoy the present. Or maybe he was only saying that because of the merchling in his arms._

_“You know you’re going to have to let go of me at some point if we’re going to eat this at the table.”_

_Jesper realised that, while in thought, Wylan had finished the waffles he was making. _

_He laughed. “Who knew you could be so cruel? Making a man choose between a merchling in his arms and waffles. Truly despicable.”_

_Jesper could practically feel Wylan roll his eyes as he darted out of Jesper’s grip. He followed Wylan to the table where they both sat down to eat._

_While they ate mostly in silence, the exhaustion from the day finally reaching them, Jesper did catch Wylan’s leg with his foot earning him a blush. His foot gently run up and down Wylan’s leg. Up and down. The physical contact reminding them both that they made it, they were here._

_Once finished with the food, Jesper quickly washed their plates and cutlery, hoping he returned everything to its rightful place. When he turned back to where he left the merchling, Jesper felt his gaze soften._

_Wylan had rested his head atop his arms on the table already dropping off to sleep._

_“Come on sleeping beauty. You’ll get an awful crick in your back if I leave you here all night.”_

_Wylan mumbled under his breath as Jesper had to practically carry him from the table. He woke up, becoming more alert, as they travelled through the house. Who was he kidding? This wasn’t a house; it was a mansion._

_At the top of the stairs, Wylan paused. He studied the door to one of the bedrooms before deciding something and turning the opposite direction down the corridor. Jesper followed silently as Wylan chose a door, seemingly at random, and entered. From where Jesper hovered in the doorway, he could tell this was a guest room. A basic colour scheme covering the blank room, devoid of any personal items or decoration._

_Wylan looked back at Jesper, looking torn. Jesper paused. Unsure. Which was unlike him. Would Wylan want to share a bedroom?_ Surely, it was too early in what they had between them for that _Jesper tried to convince himself, ignoring the pull of his heart to stay with Wylan just to be by his side. He knew if he left there would be a physical ache._

_“I-“ Wylan tried to begin, eyes darting between Jesper and the bed, “I mean, do you want-“ He paused and Jesper desperately wanted him to ask. Because he already knew what his answer would be._

_Finally, Wylan’s tired eyes fell on Jesper, his face open, honest,_ trusting_. “I’m not sure if I can be alone tonight. In this house.”_

_And Jesper was walking towards Wylan, the door closing behind him, enclosing them in. Together. His hands found Wylan’s. “I’m here. I’ll stay. As long as you want me.” He squeezed Wylan’s hands as he earned a smile from the merchling. “You only needed to ask to get me into your bed.” Jesper winked._

_Wylan pushed away from Jesper as he turned towards the bed. But Jesper still caught a glance of the blush and smile across his face._

_Wylan pulled off his shoes and that appeared to be the extent of the effort he was prepared to put in as he collapsed on the bed. Laughing, Jesper followed the merchling, soon lying beside him. They both turned to face each other and Jesper could only stare. Stare at Wylan’s face. His curls pressed into the pillow. His blush still lingering across his nose. His blue blue eyes overflowing with trust and openness._

_“Hey,” Wylan whispered into the silence of the room._

_“Hey, he repeated, whispering right back, as he gently brushed a few rogue curls from Wylan’s face. Jesper’s mind flashed back to their kiss. Their first kiss. Hopefully not their last. He could hear past Wylan’s advice,_ “breathe”_, and felt his nerves settle. _

_Well, only a bit._

_He didn’t know how much time passed while he was staring into those blue-sky eyes, his hand cupping Wylan’s face as if he were holding the stars of his freckles in his palm. But, while Jesper was lost indulging in memories, Wylan closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together._

_The world was silent around them. Ketterdam had jerked to a stop allowing the city’s air to be filled with the sound of the wind racing through the streets, gently gliding past windows and rustling leaves. And in this silence, time had no meaning. There was no cacophony of the clubs and bars and pleasure houses in rush hour. No clutter of workers rising for dawn. Seconds, minutes, hours, days all passed by without notice as all focus was given to the boy Jesper was kissing._

_Instead, time became the gaps and breaths before they collided again. Time became the low moans immediately swallowed. Time became the distance between Wylan’s jaw and shoulder. Then time became the yawns shared and the drooping eyelids until the concept of time was excluded and shunned far from the place of sleep and dreams._

_Jesper fell asleep with his arms around Wylan. Safe. Secure. Precious. And it was with these feelings that the land of dreams and nightmares claimed him._

_He felt somebody being torn from his arms._

_He had guns with no bullets to shoot._

_He saw a ship sinking sinking sinking._

_He recognised blood blooming, a body falling._

_He heard-_

_“Jesper!”_

_His eyes flew open as Jesper realised, with a jarring shift back to reality, that he was still in the Van Eck mansion, in his and Wylan’s room with said merchling leaning over him, hands gently shaking him awake. He sat up, bringing his knees to his chest as he tried to regulate his breathing._

_A soft hand was placed at his back, rubbing gentle circles, encouraging, soothing. Jesper could feel the dried tears sticking to his face._

_“Sorry.”_

_Wylan shifted, becoming more clear in Jesper’s peripheral vision. “You don’t need to say sorry.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”_

_“I-“ Jesper stopped, unwilling to continue, he just wanted to forget and let it all blow away. _No_. He knew none of this could be brushed under the rug and there was another thing, something that skirted around the edges of his brain, always present, always pushing that one truth- _

_Wylan was too good for him. Jesper’s shoulders dropped with the admission. But when had Jesper ever given up when the odds were stacked against him? So he would do his best, work his hardest, to be worthy of Wylan. And, really, the least he could do was try and match his honesty. Try to earn Wylan’s trust._

_“It was you.” He heard Wylan’s sharp intake of breath. “When we confronted Jan Van Eck and I thought you were on the ship and he attacked and I thought you- I thought you were- I thought you were dead.” His voice cracked. “Just those few seconds where I couldn’t do _anything_. Except this time- you _were_ on the ship.”_

_“I’m here Jes, I’m here.”_

_“But it wasn’t just that. It was Matthias. I just- I can’t believe-“_

_Wylan’s hand paused against his back before he resumed the motion. “It doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, “I don’t feel like I miss him yet because it feels like he hasn’t gone anywhere.”_

_And that was it. There was a piece missing. But if they ignore the gap, they could pretend they were still whole._

_They sat there in their grief for a few moments longer until Jesper could feel the heaviness of his exhaustion weighing him down. They returned to the warmth of their bed, Wylan’s arms around Jesper. But the tone had shifted, away from softness and security that had invited them before._

_Instead, there was a darkness in the corner of Jesper’s mind. Growing and growing. Like a coward, he hid from it, repressed it. Pretending he could continue without addressing it. Allowing it to build and build until it was all-encompassing until he had no choice but to-_

_Explode._

~~~

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Jesper tapped his fingers on the top of their table. Wylan had taken him to one of the cafés in the Booksplein and they had found a quiet corner near the back. He had gotten better over the last few years. At finding ways to direct and use up his energy, at controlling his restlessness. But, still, being nervous or anxious or worried brought out those old habits.

Because, _fuck_, was Jesper nervous.

Even though he hid it the best he could, the only way he knew how, by pulling on his extroverted persona like a coat. But seeing Wylan after all this time, being this close to him again- 

He had looked forward to it. Over the years. When he decided to return. Travelling to Ketterdam. As much as he tried to pretend, he _wanted_ to see Wylan again. 

_Saints_, Jesper had missed Wylan.

But he was also scared.

Terrified, really.

So many unsolved problems and unanswered questions. Jesper feared that the gap between them solidified by time had broken something and no matter how much he worked on his Fabrikator skills, he would never be able to fix it.

But he was here. With Wylan. In a small café with a mostly undrunk drink in front of him. To talk. To chat. To catch up. There was a lot to catch up on. Jesper feared this conversation would be unable to meet the demands. Maybe he should have prepared a bullet-pointed list.

“So,” Wylan began, “why did you decide to come back to Ketterdam?”

Good. A safe topic. “I wanted to return to university. Since I got a bit distracted the first time, I thought I would give it another go.”

Wylan looked- surprised? Well, to be fair the Jesper he knew before hardly valued educated very highly.

“What are you studying?”

“Law with Criminal Justice.” 

Wylan blinked, obviously not expecting that answer, and was unable to hide a small chuckle, “Really?”

“Saints, I know. I’ve probably broken almost all the laws I’ll be studying.”

Wylan laughed. And it was different to before. Where he would turn his head slightly or raise his hand to his face. When he would laugh uncontrollably but hide it away. Now, Jesper noted as he couldn’t take his eyes away, Wylan laughed open, as if daring people to stare, to see his happiness. Jesper had to look away eventually, the way people have to look away from the sun.

“Okay but really, why?” The memory of his laugh remained on his face as Wylan looked at him curiously.

“Oh well, you know, the criminal justice systems in most countries are, well, pretty shit. The Fjerdan and Shu Han laws towards Grisha are awful. I mean, look at Kerch right? The stadwatch are useless and the Council care more about hiding their own crimes than ensuring others get fair punishments. You’ve seen what goes on at Hellgate, they hardly care about reforming the prisoners. And, trust me, I know it’s ridiculous- I mean _me_!” He shook his head. “I guess I want to at least try to make it better.”

Wylan looked at him earnestly. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

Jesper found himself looking away before another thought came to his mind. “So what were you doing in the Booksplein? Are you studying here too?” A completely normal question. Well, only if you ignore the bubbling mixture of hope and nausea in Jesper that accompanied the idea of being around Wylan again.

“Oh, well not exactly. I’m a guest lecturer for the university sometimes.” Wylan shrugged.

“Wait. You’re a lecturer here?” He exclaimed.

“Not exactly. I’m barely here part-time. The maths professor just asks me to come in sometimes and I’ve done a few chemistry lectures.”

Jesper leant back in his chair, impressed. The Wylan he knew could have never stood up confidently in front of dozens of people and speak. Even if he was bribed with a hundred waffles.

“Wow.”

“It really isn’t that big of a deal.” He was blushing now, eyes looking around the café seemingly avoiding Jesper.

“So,” Jesper began, “how is the business?” He had to ask. Despite the alarms blaring in his head. _Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask_. He needed to find out, to either appease or surrender completely to the guilt he has been carrying. For leaving. For abandoning. For-

“Good.”

A breath. Released quickly, deeply. Wylan continued:

“The majority of our investments have turned a profit and I’m currently negotiating to increase our shipping capacity. Of course, I changed the route from the old one as it was far too dangerous but it’s worth the longer travelling times. It took a while, a long while, for the other merchers and the Council to actually _listen_ and take me seriously but I think I’ve gotten there now.” Wylan released a small smile, his eyes distant as if mentally calculating the next goods he would be importing. Although, Jesper knew, that might not be far off from the truth.

“Guess I should be calling you a fully-fledged mercher now, not a merchling.” Jesper was unable to hide the slightly wistful tone to his words as his thoughts pressed down on him. He had missed so much. Here, in Ketterdam, with the business, with Wylan. 

“I mean, most of the money goes towards wages, of course. I-” He paused. “Over the last few years me, Kaz and Inej have been trying to remove indentures from Ketterdam.” His expression lit up with pride as he explained, reminding Jesper of the look on his face when Wylan explained his newest bomb and the chemical reactions behind the explosion. “I replaced all of my father’s workers’ indentures as soon as I could, negotiating a fairer contract so everyone is free to leave whenever they want. And we’ve been trying to convince the Council to officially ban indentures. A few merchers’ have supported us and have done the same. And so far the Council has placed extra laws around indentures being formed and attempts to prolong indentures but it’s nowhere near perfect yet. But, still, we’re getting there.”

“So you’re single-handedly dismantling an unjust and corrupt system that is basically a foundation in Kerch’s economy and government? Fucking hell Wy. I mean- _Saints_.”

He blushed. “It’s hardly as grand as you’re making it sound and it’s not just me.” But Jesper couldn’t help the surprise and admiration he felt for the man in front of him. 

Despite all the time that had passed and all the time Jesper had worked and endured and _improved_, in his mind, Ketterdam was frozen. His friends would remain the same, continuing as they did when he left. He just hadn’t - couldn’t - imagine them moving on and changing too.

Kaz would remain the same calculating gang leader. Slowly building his empire, albeit an illegal one, removing any and all competition. Yet, even during their brief conversation, Jesper could note differences. A more open and easily seen kindness right there in his eyes and his words and his _hands_.

And Wylan-

He had thought about Wylan, a lot more than he would admit to anyone, but not the business. He felt his guilt for leaving, for not helping more like he should have. He worried for Wylan every day and every night. And still-

He didn’t think of Wylan planning financial investments and taking trips to The Exchange and providing his workers pay rises. He certainly hadn’t thought of Wylan talking to the Council and trying to improve this Saints’ forsaken city. Jesper could laugh at himself, of course, _of course_, Wylan cares so much. For everyone. Jesper knew he would never stand for the conditions his father’s workers had suffered. He would never be a passive witness. He would _help_. 

Jesper had crystallised his idea of Wylan before he left for Ravka. The lost merchling. Maybe that made things easier. Because Jesper _changed_. And maybe it was easier to convince himself that he had changed too much for his old friends, his old life, that him and Wylan couldn’t possibly work. They wouldn’t be able to form anything serious or long term. 

Because if he accepted that Wylan had grown too, then he would have to accept that maybe their relationship _could_ flourish into a gorgeous and untameable bond, growing like a flower. But then Jesper would have to dedicate time, watering, and they would have to pull up the old weeds, dragging the past back into the present. And Jesper wasn’t sure whether he was able to do that.

So he hadn’t thought about how time would change the others. As otherwise, he would have to acknowledge the barricades between them. How time and distance had aged everyone, separating, isolating, alienating Jesper.

Because Jesper wasn’t sure his jagged pieces would fit back into his old life without breaking something.

~~~

_The mansion was filled with laughter these days; encompassing the whole building. Laughter could be found on every surface, suspended in the air like a fine mist, engulfing every staff member, visitor, and resident. Then, evaporating, condensing and dripping down the walls in an endless self-sufficient cycle; they laughed, and their laughter made them laugh more._

_They laughed as they cooked and when they ate. Smiles were shared over business letters and reports. They even laughed as they cleaned._

_Cleaning every accessible floor, wall and piece of furniture. Even some practically impossible to reach places were cleaned. All scrubbed down, removing all lingering traces of past dirt and grime. Unfortunately not all the uncleanliness of the Van Eck mansion was so easy to remove._

_Some rooms, they found, were a lot harder to clean, both physically and metaphorically._

_The day they entered Wylan father's office for the first time was the worst._

_It was just him and Wylan that day. The majority of the mansion had been attended to and this was one of the last rooms. Inej knew, they all did, that today was the day and she had made herself excused over breakfast. The servants had been surprised initially at the three’s willingness, and Wylan’s eagerness, to cleanse the rooms. A few had been concerned, but Wylan soon soothed their worries to reaffirm that their jobs were safe. But Jesper knew they all understood. After all, they had all met Jan Van Eck._

_After completing a few tasks concerning the stocks, Wylan was done with procrastinating and him and Jesper walked through the desolate hallway and arrived at the door. Wylan had paused._

_“Are you sure?” Jesper questioned. “We can always wait till tomorrow or another day or-“_

_“It’s fine, Jes. I’ve been putting it off long enough. I- It has to be done eventually.” Despite his words, Jesper could see the nervousness across his features. He took Wylan’s hand, squeezing gently but firmly._

_Wylan stopped, just inside the room. Across the floor stretched a plush carpet with no dirty footprints or food stains to be seen. The immaculate carpet only served to highlight the destroyed floor. To Jesper’s right, near the wall, beneath a painting of a Van Eck long since dead, Jesper could see the exposed wooden floorboards. Wylan had already detailed the events of his and Kaz’ break in to this office where they were interrupted by Pekka Rollins and thus made a grand escape by burning through the floor. Oh, what Jesper would have paid to see Jan Van Eck and the other merchers’ faces when the Bastard of the Barrel and who looked like the valuable Shu chemist crashed onto the dining table. _

_The dining room directly below them had not yet been refurbished, not that that was a big problem considering the plethora of other dining areas they could use. However, it seemed the former mercher had tried to make this office useable again and replaced the broken floorboards. He had failed to lay down new carpet before being arrested leaving Wylan and Kaz’ mark glaring. _

_And considering the way Wylan was looking at the exposed flooring, a smirk and a fond expression, it didn’t appear that the merchling had any intention of covering it up any time soon._

_Across from the hidden vault, the left-hand wall was lined with a deep mahogany bookcase, largely holding files and ledgers and other business accounts. The wood matched the desk set at the far end of the room, perfectly centred in the middle of the wide window allowing the pair a view of the entrance to the mansion, no doubt to spy on who is arriving or leaving. A large chair that was likely expensive and certainly looked comfortable was tucked neatly under the desk. _

_The desk was, for the majority, bare. A small dish for cigar ends, a few unopened letters and a pot of ink. Jesper couldn’t see any personal items and, while that was a common feature across the whole mansion which he and Wylan were attempting to fix, here the absence seemed more apparent, creating a deathly cold and ominous feel to the place._

__Saints, no wonder Wylan struggled so much to return here_. Jesper couldn’t imagine the kind of impression this room would leave on anyone, let alone a child. Especially considering the man who used to reside in that chair._

_Except, since the auction, this room has remained untouched. None of the servants dared to enter and every surface had a thin layer of dust._

_Wylan stepped forward, slowly, into the room. He carefully placed his hand atop the desk and wiped away a patch of dust._

_“The dust almost helps.” He began. “He would _never_ let his office fall into this state. It’s like this extra reassurance. That he isn’t here.”_

_“We can always leave the dust if you want. Maybe making all of our business partners sneeze will make them more likely to accept our deals.”_

_Wylan’s eyes flickered to Jesper, a touch of a grateful smile against his lips. He leant back against the desk, taking in the room._

_“I-” His breath caught and he turned his head away from Jesper. “Sorry, it’s just- this room has a lot of bad memories.”_

_Jesper strode towards Wylan, his long legs making quick work of the distance. He leant down, cupping Wylan’s face and turning him towards Jesper._

_“You have nothing to apologise for.”_

_Jesper closed the distance between them, capturing Wylan’s lips with his._

_“There,” he breathed, the word filling the small space between them, “now you have a good memory of this room.”_

_Wylan laughed quietly, gently pushing Jesper away. “Come on, let’s get to work.”_

_They rolled up their sleeves and wiped down every surface of the office until not a single speck of dust or trace of Jan Van Eck remained._

_Tired, but satisfied with their work, the pair collapsed on the floor - no one had sat in the great chair yet. Jesper leaned forward and pulled off a piece of dust that had collected and fallen into the other boy’s hair. Wylan smiled up at him, freckles folding into a dimple._

_Their smiles remained even as they went through every document in the office. Jesper reading to Wylan who decided which could be disregarded and which needed to be kept as well as sorting each piece of information into their own organised system._

_And there - sat on the hard wooden floors, surrounded by stacks of paper - Jesper thought Wylan had never looked so beautiful. Sitting in a room containing hoards of bad memories. Handling words and words of knowledge that had previously been used as a torture method. Wylan was _strong_. Maybe not in the definition the Dregs use, or Jesper in the past, but Wylan made his own definition of strong. And Jesper admired him so much for that._

_“Jes? You’ve stopped reading.”_

_He looked back down to the shipping contracts in his hands, “Sorry,” as he began to read again, a smile still stuck on his face. And Jesper felt like he could do this forever; reading to Wylan. It was something he could never grow bored or irritated or restless towards. He believed that as long as Wylan needed, and wanted, him here, then he would remain._

~~~

“Have you visited your father recently?”

“Yeah!” Jesper grinned. “I’ve been travelling to Novyi Zem as often as I can.” He had made a promise to himself. After all he had done, it was the least he could do. 

It had taken a long time to ease his guilt at disappointing his Da and nearly losing the farm. Nearly losing his _Ma_. That was the hardest. Visiting her again. That day he sat by her cherry tree and explained. Everything. Every gamble and every shot. While that eased the pressure on his chest slightly it did nothing to remove the look of worry across Colm’s face whenever Jesper leaves again. As though it may be the last time he will ever see him.

“How is he?”

“Good. Better. The farm is doing well, Da’s even hired a couple of farmhands to help him around the place.” Every time Jesper returns home he works on the farm, partly to make amends but also it’s- _good_. It’s comforting, familiar. The daily chores of feeding the animals, chopping firewood and milking the cows had been a repetitive constant in his childhood.

During his years at Ketterdam, Jesper had feared returning to this, this monotonous routine. But now he understood why his Da enjoyed tending the farm so much. Well, to an extent, Jesper still had an itch of curiosity driving him to new places and new experiences.

“I’m glad.” Wylan smiled and Jesper knew he was being genuine.

“Oh,” a memory brought itself to the forefront of Jesper’s mind, “I wanted to tell, um, you.” Wylan looked at him curious. “I don’t know if you remember when I told you about my Ma, and how she died-”

“I remember Jes.” His eyes were gentle, watching Jesper unsure where this conversation was going.

“Well, the young zowa, that she saved, I met her. Her name is Leoni and she is with the Second Army in Ravka. She’s crazy powerful and- and she’s never forgotten what my Ma did. She even wears an amethyst for her. She’s really nice, You’d like her.” Wylan was smiling.

Da was surprisingly _excited_ for Jesper to train, to learn about an aspect of himself which had been tightly locked away for so many years. He still feared for his son but, well, he was rather accepting, which Jesper assumed he had Leoni to thank at least in part.

He probably accepted his Grisha training better than Jesper himself.

“How-“ Jesper began, “how is Marya?” 

The guilt was back. _Saints_, this was why Jesper couldn’t bear to return to Ketterdam. He couldn’t handle, no, he didn’t want to face all the people he had left behind, terrified they had become worse and worse while he did nothing.

He was miles away and the people he had loved could have been burning to ashes while he had no idea.

~~~

_The boat rocked gently beneath them. Waves bumping into the side of the boat as it sailed south, water spraying upwards onto Jesper’s face as he leant over the railing. When he licked his lips he could taste salt._

_It reminded him of the journey here from Novyi Zem, bundled up for the cold and bags full. And excited. Jesper’s overflowing energy had him circling the ship over and over. He had yet to feel homesick, although there was a sharp pang in his chest when he remembered his goodbyes with his father and the farm, and was mostly looking forward to immersing himself in a new place and culture._

_But reflecting on his Da only caused concerns to rise; whether he safely made it out of Ketterdam after the auction and back home. He should be back on the farm any day now, and Jesper was always subconsciously keeping an ear out for the daily post, waiting for a letter to confirm his safety. So Jesper tried to avoid these thoughts for now and enjoy the view._

_Wylan, on the other hand, looked like he was going to be sick, and not due to the bumpy ride._

_“What if she doesn’t recognise me?”_

_“Wy,” Jesper took his hand, “you saw all the paintings on the walls, your mother couldn’t forget what you looked like even if she tried. You haven’t changed that much.”_

_But it was true, Wylan lacked his true appearance when he first found his mother again and it was impossible to predict what Marya’s reaction now was going to be._

_“What if she doesn’t want to leave with us?”_

_“We all know she isn’t meant to be in that place, and I think she knows it too.”_

_“But- but the house, after everything that’s happened to her, what if she doesn’t want to stay there?”_

_“Well, it’s going to take time to adjust but if she decides that then we can help her settle in somewhere else with less memories. Somewhere nearby or even a place far from Ketterdam in the country. Wherever she will be she will be looked after.”_

_Wylan nodded vaguely, mind still preoccupied with his swirling worries, which Jesper tried his best to soothe but even he couldn’t predict the future._

_“What if-” Wylan’s voice sounded more hesitant as he eyes gazed across the waters. “What if she doesn’t like me?”_

_“Merchling,” Jesper murmured wrapping his arms around Wylan who met his eyes, “who couldn’t adore you? You’re kind and generous and smart and bloody brilliant.” Wylan shook his head, blushing, but before he could open his mouth, Jesper continued: “Marya will want, and need, to get to know you but she should feel honoured having you as her son.”_

_While the blush remained it was accompanied by a smile. Not a wide, teeth exposed, grin which could rival the sun itself, but instead a softer smile, a tugging of the lips, slightly crooked but, in Jesper’s opinion, perfect._

_“Thank you,” Wylan whispered as he pushed up onto his toes to bring their lips together. Jesper could feel the heat of Wylan’s fading blush and shape of his smile as he tasted salt._

_Their hands remained clasped for the rest of their journey, up until they were once again in front of those white double doors of Saint Hilde, where Jesper squeezed Wylan’s hand one last time, before they entered._

_“How may I help you?” The nurse at the desk questioned the pair._

_“I am Wylan Van Eck and I’m here for my mother, Marya Hendriks, I would like her to come home with us today, please.” Despite his polite words, Wylan’s voice had put on its mercher suit, not leaving any doubt and assuring the nurse that Marya _would_ be leaving today._

_The nurse frowned, “I would need to contact Jan Van Eck since he pays for-”_

_“My father is in prison. I am now in control of his finances and I’ve decided to withdraw my mother from this place.”_

_“Oh, um, I see. Well- I would need to get all the paperwork in order first.”_

_“That would be great thank you. Can I-” He paused for a split second, enough for Jesper to notice, “visit her while you prepare everything?”_

_“Of course Mr. Van Eck. This way.”_

_She unlocked and relocked the doors as they moved, cages disguised as safety, as she led them to a small room solely filled with chairs and sofas with a large window letting in light in a pretense of freedom._

_The room was empty except for the filled spot on one of the sofas, face turned towards the window, Jesper easily recognised her from their first visit and Wylan’s features._

_Marya Hendriks._

_While Wylan did resemble his father, it was clear to Jesper that the softness of his eyes and high cheekbones were a direct result of his mother. And, of course, her hair. The fiery locks had faded with time and were now speckled with grey. Despite Marya’s short hair, Wylan’s curls were still evident._

_The nurse quietly left, to arrange everything, leaving the three of them alone. Jesper hung back while Wylan stepped forwards, towards his mother. Jesper brushed his hand along Wylan’s arm as he passed, for support, reassurance, a silent _I’m here_._

_“Mum,” Wylan managed, voice raw with fear and anxiety and, beneath all that, hope._

_Marya looked up, staring directly at Wylan, painful seconds passing with not even a flicker of recognition crossing her face but just as Jesper was going to reach for Wylan, to hold him while he breaks, her face filled with emotion. _

_“Wylan?” Eyes wide and eyebrows drawn with confusion and shock all mixed together. Wylan closed the distance between them, sitting next to her and gently taking her hand._

_“Mum,” he repeated, assuring himself, “it’s me. I’m here.”_

_“But- but I don’t understand.” Her eyes filled with tears as Jesper looked away, attempting to not intrude on their reunion. “Your father-”_

_“He’s gone. For good. I promise you’ll never have to see him again.”_

_“My son- Wylan. You’re all grown up.” Pure sadness filled her voice; sadness at the time that’s gone while they were separated, missed time._

_“We’re going to bring you home mum, okay? We’re leaving this place today. If that’s what you want?”_

_Jesper could imagine her nodding. “Yes, yes.” When he glanced over mother and son were hugging._

_“Oh, and mum,” he looked up at Jesper, tears spilling into his smile, “this is Jesper, my- my friend.” Wylan stumbled over his words, nervous. But Jesper smiled brightly walking over towards to pair, stretching out a hand for Marya._

_“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”_

_The nurse returned then, clutching forms upon forms of paperwork, accompanied by an older woman who clearly had a higher level of authority._

_Jesper read the sheets to Wylan, to ensure everything was as it should be, while the older woman attempt to convince Wylan otherwise._

_“Mr. Van Eck you must realise. Marya is very ill and needs to be cared for. I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you-”_

_“My mother is coming home with me today.” Wylan signed the forms in various places. “And I will ensure she is looked after.”_

_After Marya had packed her limited possessions, they left. Jesper carried her bags while Wylan gave her his arm to support her. It was clear that on the trip to the docks she was slipping away. By the time she sat down on the boat, her eyes had glazed over and she could no longer hold onto a conversation. _

_Jesper hoped it was due to the medication she had been given, likely sedatives that would move out of her system in a few days. But he feared that Saint Hilde had damaged a deeper part in Marya with a more permanent and severe impact._

_Wylan hovered near Marya the whole journey back and as they made their way up the steps into the mansion, Marya slowed down, Wylan squeezing her hand. _

_“He’s gone,” he repeated. Wylan still woke up at night and froze when he stepped into a room, fearing that Jan Van Eck would suddenly appear. And while Jesper was there for him, reassuring him that that bastard was safely behind bars and even if somehow he got out he wouldn’t be able to make it two steps out of that prison gate before he was faced with Jesper’s pistols, Wylan still doubted. No amount of ration and logic could remove the instinct buried deep in Wylan to hide, curl up and not make a sound._

_Jesper couldn’t begin to imagine how Marya feels entering this place again. But Jesper had already promised to himself that he would be there for Wylan and his mother, doing as much as he could for them._

_The servants had already been warned about Marya, namely that she was alive. Although Jesper isn’t convinced many of them believed Wylan and that thought was confirmed as they entered the dining room, passing servants who looked as though they had just seen a ghost._

_The meal they had already arranged, including what the chef remembered as Marya’s favourites, was soon brought to them. Wylan stayed next to Marya, constantly casting glances over as though if he looked away for longer than a few seconds she would disappear._

_While Marya sometimes struggled to make conversation and Wylan was largely focused on his mother, Jesper was more than capable of talking of easy topics, even managing a smile from Marya as he told her a story from working on the farm which included an escaped horse and a basket of eggs. _

_As soon as their plates were removed from the table, Marya announced that she was tired. Wylan quickly stood up to take her to her room, motioning to Jesper to remain here, probably wanting to have some time together. They had discussed the day before where Marya would be most comfortable; they didn’t choose the master bedroom, her old bedroom, afraid it would contain too many bad memories and instead chose a room close to their own._

_Later that night, Jesper changed for bed while Wylan already lay beneath the sheets, exhausted from the day._

_“You were brilliant today.” Wylan turned to Jesper as he crawled in next to him, a lazy smile on his face. _

_Wylan gave him a gentle kiss, “No, _you_ were brilliant. Thank you.”_

_“Nothing to thank me for merchling. However, if you feel the need to express your gratitude, I’d be more than willing.”_

_Wylan laughed rewarding him with another, longer, kiss. A few minutes later, Jesper pulled back just enough to breathe but so Wylan still filled his vision, their legs tangled._

_“How are you feeling?” Jesper questioned, “About everything.”_

_Wylan laid back on his back, staring at the ceiling, and Jesper took his hand. “I’m glad she’s home. I just- I don’t know her. And she doesn’t know me. And I’m just so worried about her. Whether she’ll be okay here.”_

_“You have time now to spend together and I know it isn’t going to be easy for your mother. But we’ll help her.” He squeezed his hand. “Together.”_

_They woke up that morning to shouting._

_Jesper had barely opened his eyes before Wylan was out of bed. He hurried after him down the hall. Wylan followed the shouting to Marya’s room. When Jesper entered the room he saw Marya standing with wide terrified eyes surrounded by a couple of servants who appeared to be attempting, unsuccessfully, to calm her down._

_Wylan stepped towards his mother who turned towards him. She stared, unseeing, at him, features still distorted in terror. He took another slower and smaller step, hands held out, reaching towards Marya, and, in a panic, she jerked backwards. Wylan stopped, hurt clear across his face._

_Marya blinked, eyes clearing and she quietly asked, “Wylan?”_

_He walked over to her slowly, embracing her in a hug. While Jesper dismissed the servants, he could hear Wylan murmuring, “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”_

_This occurred the next morning. And the next. So much so that Wylan and Jesper were already walking to Marya’s room when she began shouting. _

_Some days she recognised Wylan. Some days she didn’t. Some days she would paint. Some days she remained distant and closed off until the next morning. Some days Wylan was the only person able to talk to her. Some days it was Jesper. Or Inej. Or one of the servants. _

_Those were the days where Wylan hurt the most. When he couldn’t comfort her and feared being in the same room and reminding her of her husband._

_Jesper was constantly rubbing the worried furrow between Wylan’s eyebrows. Sometimes earning a smile and a kiss and sometimes being shaken off._

_And they were _tired_. Of the early morning nightmares and the late working nights reading through business document after document. Going to sleep and waking with the same constant worry; how will Marya be today?_

_But then, one morning they woke to peace. Jesper opened his eyes, surprised to note the light seeping through their curtains. He glanced at the clock, eyes widening, as he turned to face Wylan who was already awake._

_“Is she-”_

_“She’s sleeping,” Wylan whispered in almost disbelief. “I haven’t heard her.”_

_Jesper smiled and his smile was brightly returned by Wylan, with a touch of relief. The pair moved closer, Jesper brushing a curl away from Wylan’s face so he could see his smile in its full glory. _

_They breathed a little easier that day. And even when they returned to what had become a routine the next morning, the tension had eased. Because they would get there. Where before they were unsure whether the finish line even existed they now knew that, however long it took, it would get better._

_“My parents are here,” Inej stated over dinner._

_Jesper almost choked on his drink. “What?”_

_Inej smiled, a rare smile that Jesper did not often see on his friend. “Kaz found them. And brought them here.”_

_Jesper placed an arm over her shoulders and squeezed her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you.” And he meant it. He had witnessed Inej’s loss for her parents, her love for them obvious when she would tell him stories of her childhood after he’d beg for her to tell him of life as an acrobat._

_“And me,” Wylan added smiling at them._

_“And-” she paused, hesitating, “I will be travelling back to Ravka with them when they leave.”_

_Jesper wasn’t expecting the ache in his chest that hit him. _

_Inej was his first friend here in Ketterdam, meeting her soon after joining the Dregs. While he knew Kaz first, he certainly wouldn’t have allowed Jesper to even consider him as a friend, especially not then. As Jesper’s skills with his guns became more apparent and he rose in the ranks, more frequently he would be sent on the high risk, high reward jobs with Inej and Kaz._

_And they were good friends. He could make her laugh after she spent far too long unable to smile. And she could help mellow him out, providing much needed ration to his thought process. She even formed schemes to keep him away from the Makker’s Wheel that he was always well aware of and often tried to resist. But still, she continued and sometimes succeeded. Inej cared for his well being. And he cared about her. _

_It- wasn’t expected. But she was important to him and he desperately tried to hold onto their friendship. For so long it was the only good thing he had in the Barrel and so many times he expected Inej to turn away when he came back to the Slat in the early hours of the morning drunk and in even more debt. _

_She never did._

_They had each other’s backs for long enough that it was second nature, purely habitual. _

_But they were no longer two gang members trying to survive in the streets of Ketterdam, attempting to gain the attention and respect of Kaz. They had changed and while they may always be friends, their lives were now moving in separate directions._

_So maybe Jesper was scared. Scared as he toured Inej’s ship and helped her prepare for the journey to Ravka. Because he was losing that last part of himself, of the Jesper he had been in the Barrel. He had moved, physically and metaphorically, into a new life. And while he had no regrets, it was a severe adjustment to make._

_Saints, Jesper would miss Inej. And it was this loss that he felt, bone-deep, as he waved Inej and her parents off. Miss trying to spy a shadow along the roofs and trying to hide his surprise when she appeared out of thin air._

_So he stood there, on the docks, until The Wraith disappeared into the horizon._

~~~

“She’s doing well, actually. She’s- well, she’s better, much better. I mean, she still has, you know, her bad days but she’s better. She still paints a lot, of course,” Wylan smiled thinking of his mother, “and she’s friends with a few of the neighbours and they regularly meet up for food and tea. She helps with the business too sometimes, like she’ll read things to me and that.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” And he was. He knew it would be, and still is, a long uphill climb for Marya and- and he left. He left them both alone to suffer and persevere without him. He hoped that hearing good news of Marya’s health would soothe the guilt churning at the pit of his stomach. But, if anything, it just reminded him of what he abandoned.

Because, simply, he wasn’t there. He wasn't there to comfort Wylan through the bad days or to celebrate the good days. He wasn’t there to help Marya through to the next day or sit with her while she paints. When Jesper wasn’t needed and Wylan was busy he had often sat with her while she painted.

She would sit on the terrace overlooking the gardens and bring life to a canvas. While Marya did not speak while she worked, her constant movement with a brush and watching the servants move around completing their tasks largely managed to grasp onto Jesper’s attention and keep his restlessness at bay, for the time being. But it was always there. And he knew, Jesper knew, that his overflowing energy was something part of his very being since the day he was born. But-

He worried.

Even as he sat with Marya he can still remember feeling his old _itch_ barely contained beneath the surface. Reading to Wylan and helping with the business had largely retained his focus and wore him out enough that in the evenings his mind did not wander from their bedroom. But it was there, in the quiet moments when he had no immediate tasks to fulfil but still wanted to ensure Marya had a familiar presence nearby, that he had felt _it_ return.

The question, the urge, that had followed him everywhere for so long: _What would happen if I just bet a bit more?_ Because he could win, double, triple his money in a mere instant. Soon accompanied by a rush of adrenaline and that returning question of _What if I did it again?_ He could win more and more and more.

Or he could lose. 

But the question still remained _What if I did it again?_ Because then he could win. As often as there was a possibility of losing, there was the possibility of winning. And it was this idea he had chased at every gambling den. Spiraling further and further into debt but he knew, _he knew_, one good bet, one well-placed gamble, one lucky card could wipe all that debt away. So he kept going and going and going.

So the one day when Marya set down her brush and spoke to him surprised Jesper so much it pulled his mind away from the gambling, just for a moment.

“_You’re good for my son. You make him happy_,” she had said before continuing with the shading of a flower petal.

He had made a promise then, to Marya without her knowing, to always fulfil her high expectations, to strive to make Wylan happy.

Really, he should have learnt long ago to stop making promises. Because he always breaks them.

Wylan, sitting in front of him, was fidgeting in his chair. His fingers toyed with his, now empty, cup. And his eyes glanced towards Jesper before intensely studying the art on the walls. And while it was a great painting, not as good as Marya’s, Jesper doubted anyone could really spend that long analysing the details of Second Harbour.

But before Jesper could question his change in mood, Wylan’s attention returned and he cleared his throat before beginning.

“So,” he paused, a great start. Obvious anxiety about his next words but a determination to find out and satisfy his curiosity. _No_, it wasn’t curiosity. It was a necessity. Like a starving man asking Jesper for a morsel of food. “How is your gambling?”

~~~

_It happened again._

_This time, he had almost reached the gates at the end of the Van Eck drive before he stopped. It had started with standing up from a chair before pausing and turned into leaving a room before halting. Every time that unbridled energy filled his mind, his very being, from the tips of his fingers right down to his toes, and he started moving without thinking. Any ability he once possessed to form coherent thoughts gone._

_And the only thing that is left is that _push_, driving him forwards, that question repeating over and over haunting his every step, pulling him towards that old table, that familiar Makker’s Wheel. But every time his reason returned, largely in the form of Wylan and his father’s faces. Their disappointment if he followed through. And so, every time he stopped._

_But this was the farthest he had ever reached before his movements stilled and he simply sat down, on the grass, back against the wall surrounding the estate. The wall there to protect. But lately it felt like it was there to keep him in. Trapped. _

_Jesper vaguely wondered whether this constant game of push and pull would drive him to madness. It certainly felt as if it would; that ball of alluring darkness in his brain was growing, its claws grasping onto every aspect of Jesper’s life. The worst part was that Jesper had thought he could do this. He had put his share of money from the Ice Court job under Da’s name. The first week with Wylan was so busy he hardly had time to think about all the games he was missing back in the Crow Club. He had never gone so long without placing a hand since he arrived in Ketterdam. So when he felt that first need, he ignored it, sure that it would soon disappear. Because that was what it felt like; not a want, a _need_. Like a basic survival resource. Jesper was dehydrated and starving and he needed to gamble as much as he needed to breathe air. _

_So when, instead of disappearing, it only increased in size and severity, Jesper had to acknowledge it. This weakness. Because before with every disapproving stare from Kaz and sigh from Inej when he yet again lost, he could confidently assure them. _I can stop whenever I want to_. He just had never wanted to. Or so he told himself._

_Now, he was faced with the true ugly reality. This thing, this addiction as Wylan called it, had a hold on him. And Jesper wasn’t sure he could break it._

_“Jes?” Or, at least, he couldn’t break it alone._

_He raised his head and Wylan wandered over and sat next to him. “I’m sorry.”_

_Wylan shushed him, “You have nothing to apologise for.” But Jesper couldn’t face him, instead, he stared up watching the windows of the mansion. In one room, two young servants were gossiping as they wiped down the table. In another, the sheets of a bed were being changed. Windows were thrown open to let in what little breeze there was to combat the warm sunshine. Wylan took his hand, his smaller fingers intertwining with Jesper’s calloused, leaner fingers._

_It was Jesper who broke their silence first, unable to let it continue further lest it falls into that pit once more. “Have you found anyone yet?”_

_“No,” Wylan sighed, frustrated, “not a single Fabrikator in all of Ketterdam.”_

_They weren’t even sure if Wylan’s theory was true; if learning his Grisha powers would help but he couldn’t deny that pure rush he felt when he made a shot, temporarily replacing his desire to gamble. And now, maybe since Da accepted his past faults and was trying to stop blaming Ma’s powers for her death, he felt that curiosity. To find out what he could do and was capable of._

_“Well, we did ship most of them to Ravka ourselves.” Not that they regretted their past actions. Not when the Shu’s Grisha hunting monsters had been prowling the streets._

_That was how they continued. Jesper read to Wylan and accompanied him to business meetings as he reestablished old relations. They ate lunch with Marya, taking to the garden when the weather permitted it, with Inej’s empty seat glaring. He fell into bed every night with the merchling in his arms and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe._

_And the whole time, his body wanted to be elsewhere. The pulsing need remained through every second of every day. Jesper would stare at the ceiling of their bedroom as Wylan slept, forcing himself not to move. Because if he gave in, even an itch, he knew he would be falling falling falling into that abyss and he wouldn’t be able to get out of it. _

_Somehow, Wylan always knew when the shouting in his head was too loud. He would announce that he was tired of studying the stock report and drag Jesper away from the too quiet monotony. Sometimes they would explore Ketterdam together, always staying far from the Barrel and its decadent poisons. And although Jesper had previously felt he knew every corner of the city, it was like a new place with Wylan at his side. They went to fancy restaurants he could never have afforded and quaint bakeries with delicious smells. They strolled through the few green spaces and parks nearby and browsed almost every clothing shop they found._

_Other times, Wylan simply pulled Jesper to a dark corner and kissed him until every thought other than Wylan’s lips left his head._

_It worked to an extent and Jesper thanked Wylan everyday, not always aloud. But their trip would always end. Their kisses would eventually stop. And it came flooding back in, waves receding momentarily only to greet you with a tsunami. To put it simply, Jesper was treading water, his head barely above the waves._

_He knew it worried Wylan too. Wylan who took on others’ burdens and anxieties. One day, his nerves spilled out of himself as he stumbled over his words and bumped into furniture for most of the morning. By noon, Jesper couldn’t take much more._

_“What’s up with you today?”_

_Wylan looked up at Jesper for a moment before sighing. He followed him into an empty lounge and sat down. _

_“So,” the merchling began, “I received a letter from Nina. I asked one of the servants to read it to me” Jesper stared at him, eyes wide with shock and dread and perhaps with a little betrayal. “She agreed with us that it would be practically impossible to find a Fabrikator in Kerch, especially someone who could train you. But she suggested, and I know I had thought about it too, but you don’t have to make any decisions now and it’s completely up to you and-”_

_“Wy,” Jesper cut him off, “just spit it out.”_

_“She suggested you go train in Ravka.”_

_Jesper blinked in surprise and frowned at Wylan. “What? No. No way. Out of the question.”_

_Wylan looked at him as if he expected his reaction. “Just think about it Jes, okay? That’s all I’m asking for.”_

_“I don’t need to think about it. My answer is no.”_

_“Jes,” he began._

_“I can’t believe you even thought about this Wy. You want to send me away that badly?”_

_“No, of course not!” His threw his hands in the air with exasperation. “I want you here. With me. But I care about you Jes. I’m not going to force you to stay here when it’s clearly hurting you.”_

_“I’m fine,” he bit out as if saying the words could make them true._

_“No, Jes. You aren’t. Just- I’m not forcing you to go. But I’m not going to hold you back. You have to decide what’s best for you. And only you can make that decision.”_

_Things between them stayed cold after that. Wylan attempting to reach out to him while Jeser pushed him away. He wasn’t proud of it. But he was hurt, unable to shake away that feeling that Wylan was trying to get rid of him. And maybe he was angry at himself too, for even imagining what it would be like, to train in Ravka with some of the most powerful Grisha in the world._

_They continued through their daily routine of business reports that now solely consisted of formal spoken words with the jokes and stolen kisses removed. Tense words exchanged over lunch which he knew Marya asked Wylan about afterwards. They still fell into the same bed every night with a newly formed distance between them._

_Their new monotony did not provide any distractions for Jesper and it was only a matter of time until-_

_It happened again_

_This time he was about to turn onto East Stave. He could already see the flashing lights and hear the tinkling of the Makker’s Wheel spinning when he stopped. Stopped. And remembered. And then the realisation hit. He couldn’t continue on like this. Something had to change._

_He turned around and walked straight back to the Van Eck mansion, back to Wylan, where he sat down in front of the merchling, resigned._

_“Okay. Fine.” The words hurt to say. “We have no other option.”_

_Wylan nodded but did not smile, despite encouraging Jesper, he was no more happy about it than he was._

_“Okay, well, we can start arranging everything for you to leave soon.”_

_Jesper nodded along, already feeling guilty for his decision. He knew Wylan could get other people to read for him. But that seed of self-hatred had already been planted. He was too weak to solve this on his own. He had already dragged Wylan into his problems. And now he was abandoning him, Marya and, well, everyone. They would suffer for his inadequacy._

_It felt like Jesper was giving up. He had already given up on trying to overcome his gambling on his own. And now he was giving up on Wylan, on what they had together._

_But he just didn’t know what else to do._

_Eventually, the day came where he had to leave. He had tried to prevent the day arriving, searching for loopholes so he had an excuse to stay._

_“Who is going to read to you?”_

_“I can hire someone.”_

_“But what if you can’t trust them?”_

_“I can get Kaz to do a background check and, anyway, if something doesn’t sound right I can get someone else to read it to see. I’ll have something read to me three, four, five times if I have to! Jes, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”_

_The night before, Wylan had helped Jesper pack._

_“You’ll miss seeing my face every day,” Jesper had joked._

_Wylan had looked directly at him with his honest eyes, tinged with sadness. “I will.”_

_As they lay in bed, the pair held each other, closer than they had in far too long. Two sailors in a storm, holding tight so neither are swept away._

_“I’m going to miss you,” Jesper’s voice was rough with emotion. He hadn’t said goodbye to many people in his life; never had the opportunity with his Ma and too excited for life in a city when he left Novyi Zem._

_“I’ll miss you too.”_

_In the morning, he hugged Marya one last time as him and Wylan set out, holding Jesper’s luggage and each other’s hands. And then, all too soon, Jesper had to leave. He held Wylan close on the bustling dock._

_When Wylan leant back, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, “Go and show Ravka what Jesper Llewellyn Fahey is made of.”_

_Jesper choked out a laugh. “When I get back I expect every member of the Council to shake at the name Wylan Van Eck.”_

__When_ he got back. Not if. It was a promise to himself, Wylan and all of Ketterdam. He didn’t know how long he would be gone but he knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that it wouldn’t be forever. However long it took, he would make it back to Ketterdam one day, even if he has to swim here himself._

_The hardest part was letting go. Knowing that, while it may not be the last time, much time will pass before he returns. But he had to. And so he did._

_While the ship’s crew worked around him, Jesper leant on the railing watching the gap between him and Wylan grow and grow. Watching the distance span miles of ocean, spanning continents and eventually years. _

_When he arrived at Ravka, a letter in unfamiliar handwriting was already waiting for him. Jesper couldn’t hide the smile as Nina handed it over as soon as he entered the gates of Os Alta._

_They wrote letters to each other frequently, enthusiastically. But-_

_Something was missing._

_Maybe it was knowing that Jesper’s words would also be read by a stranger, likely someone employed by Wylan. And as much as Jesper liked knowing his letters would fluster Wylan, he knew how important it was for him to build his reputation. A young mercher taking over a business after its previous manager was imprisoned. If Wylan had any shot of surviving the politics and economy of Kerch, he couldn’t have Jesper dragging him down._

_And maybe Wylan also struggled with speaking to a stranger on personal matters, limiting his letters to largely sharing news, asking how Jesper was and discussing the weather._

_Maybe it was the distance, the days spent between letters, forgetting what joke he wrote when he reads the response._

_Maybe it was time. The time that was always against them. Ageing them. Changing them._

_Eventually, the letter would sit on Jesper’s desk for a few days before he replied. The response to taking longer to arrive and it was only so many times Jesper could blame bad weather at sea. The letters got shorter, pages disappearing as they could only think of asking the same questions over and over._

_All Jesper knew was that the distance between them felt longer than merely a few days of sailing. The distance stretched across every formal question and vague answer, spanning the time between responses and the nights Jesper sat at his desk, paper in front of him and unsure of what to say. By the time the letters stopped arriving, the distance had grown to such a length that no explorer would dare travel it. _

_And despite Jesper’s promise, he worried the distance between them was now too great to ever close._

~~~

“Well, I-” he hesitated, uncharacteristically modest, “I haven’t gambled for 3 years and 10 months now.” _2 weeks and 3 days_ he didn’t add.

“Jes!” Wylan exclaimed, leaning forward across the table, “That’s amazing.” Then his voice took on a hint of hesitation. “Did it help? Being in Ravka, training?” And for the first time, Jesper wondered whether Wylan had worried over this; whether he had taken on blame for Jesper’s departure, just as he had done.

“Well, I wouldn’t call all the training like some magical cure that fixed everything but it… it helped.” 

When he had travelled to Ravka, it was what he was hoping for. He felt he hadn’t been strong enough to do this on his own and now he needed some medicine to make it all go away. But it hadn’t been like that.

At first, entering a whole new world for the second time in his life, the culture, the language, it provided a distraction. And he had a goal. Read this introductory textbook on the Small Science. Meet with Nina for breakfast. Attend these classes with younger Grisha. Take this metal apart. Put it back together. Now take it apart again. 

He had a purpose.

But, predictably, it didn’t take long until his attention wandered. Eventually, anything miraculous and new becomes repetitive. Staring and dissecting and rearranging atoms over and over, day after day. It kept him busy, sure, and after a day of using his powers, he felt the common tiredness. But he still felt himself getting drawn back. As if gambling was the centre of his gravity, something he couldn’t escape.

While Jesper made friends who he sat with at lunch and joked with in lessons, he knew there was a barrier. He could never be one of them. Many of them saw the Second Army as a safe haven, where they could use their powers in peace, and thus had to pay the toll; war. Jesper had never shied away from fighting before but he couldn’t share their love for Ravka, their internal need to protect their country. Jesper had spent too long shooting only for survival and money to be able to fight for a country that wasn’t even his. When Nina left, carrying her grief and promise to Matthias, Jesper knew he had lost his last connection to his old life.

And, Jesper soon learnt, he was an anomaly among Fabrikators. Under the Darkling, they did not train to fight, only to make. Kept as pieces of machinery. That was changing, he could see, especially when he visited the underground madness and saw blueprints for underwater boats himself.

They were shocked still when he explained how he directs bullets. As if it was worse than creating something that does the shooting for you. But sometimes it felt as though everyone else’s purpose was to create whereas Jesper could only destroy.

Maybe it was always inevitable that he would fall back to gambling again and it was only a question of when and where. He can barely remember that time period and how long it lasted. What he remembers is the rush, the exchanging of money, the spinning spinning spinning of the Makker’s Wheel. And the guilt after.

How he once again disappointed his Da. All of Kaz’ sharp glares and Inej’s concerned looks gone to waste. Nina’s face when she found out where all his money had gone. What Jesper knew Wylan’s reaction would be, caring and compassionate, which Jesper wasn’t worthy of.

And maybe for the first time, the worst of them all, how Jesper had disappointed himself. 

That’s when it _clicked_.

Before, when Jesper wanted to improve, he had done it for other people; his Da, Wylan and Marya. He wanted to stop gambling for them, not for himself. Because he intimately knew the pleasure and pure thrill that was easily accessible. 

And maybe it took too long but Jesper realised something when he came out of his drunken haze, pockets picked clean, bank empty. In Ketterdam, living with Wylan, he _knew_ he needed to change before it killed him. But now-

He _wanted_ to change.

There was a desperate want, a desire, not pushing him towards the gambling dens, but instead away from it but not towards someone or something else. Just, simply, away.

It wasn’t easy.

He focused on his training. He wrote letters back home to the farm and visited Da more frequently.

So no, the training hadn’t been a cure. Instead, it placed the tools and ingredients in his hands and told him _Go, make your own cure_.

He taught himself how to throw his all into lessons without burning himself out. He taught himself how to concentrate on the composition of the coins in his palm rather than their worth when passing a gambling den. He taught himself how to achieve a better feeling that he felt when placing a bet.

It wasn’t a matter of seconds or minutes, but rather months and years. He might not even be all the way there yet, he might never be, but he was happy where he was and where he was going.

And this is what he explained to Wylan; he told him more than he had ever told anyone about his journey. But, despite their time apart, he trusted Wylan and, maybe, he wanted him to know. Not just that he’s passed a metaphorical finish line, but the work that went in before the race had even started. The blood, sweat, tears and money. Maybe part of it was to justify him leaving. Or maybe it was because he wanted to share his life with Wylan. Before he left, it sometimes felt they knew everything about each other and perhaps Jesper wanted to regain that. Although he knew they might never be what they once were to each other, they had been friends first and foremost and, despite the guilt and inner turmoil Jesper now felt, he wanted Wylan back in his life. 

If Jesper had a future here in Ketterdam, he wanted Wylan to have a part in it, however big or small.

So, maybe that was why he couldn’t help but flirt with Wylan. It had always been second nature to Jesper but it had become something different with Wylan. Wylan, who he watched more carefully than others for his reaction and enjoyed his blush at a thinly disguised innuendo far too much.

_Oh_.

Jesper still had feelings for Wylan

He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, really.

Jesper had never been a stranger to romance but it wasn’t often his priority. Kissing boys and girls in the barn to avoid his chores. Grabbing onto the nearest stranger as he clung onto the high from a fight. But it was different with Wylan. Everything was different with Wylan.

Jesper had never been able to say exactly what it was. The feeling that glowed in him when he woke up next to Wylan. That sparked when they kissed. It was warm and it was familiar in a way that ached like home. But it was also dizzying happiness and excitement.

Most people say that feeling can be easily labeled by a simple four-letter word. But Jesper wasn’t most people.

For so long, the only permanent fixtures in Jesper’s life was his guns and bad luck. And in the following weeks after the Ice Court, everything was still so new and fragile.

Jesper _cared_. He cared about Wylan in a way he had never been before with anybody. And he was nervous. Not like with Kaz, when he searched for recognition and any semblance of approval. But he worried about making mistakes; feared that any day Wylan would grow tired of picking up Jesper’s pieces. 

So he had stayed quiet. Keeping that small word with too big of a meaning tucked safely away behind locks even Kaz couldn’t pick.

Until it was too late.

”And that merchling is how me and Nina accidentally caused half of the palace to be evacuated.”

Wylan was laughing along to his tale and the very sound was like music. Jesper suddenly wanted to learn to play an instrument just to be able to hear it again.

“Yeah, so there I was arguing with Councilman Janssen about healthcare for factory workers when out of nowhere Inej appears and started blackmailing him. I’m surprised it didn’t give him a heart attack.”

Or… maybe it wasn’t too late.

He had felt that the distance was too great between them now that Jesper changed. He had been unable to consider how Wylan too would change. The years had separated them as they grew, leaving behind their pasts as they became adults. Learning as they went and discovering themselves.

But change wasn’t always bad. And, in reality, they hadn’t changed all that much. At their core, they were the same Jesper and Wylan. The same Jesper who teased and never missed a target. The same Wylan who could solve any equation and leave Jesper speechless.

The same Jesper and Wylan who, amongst chaos and uncertainty, had chosen each other.

So no, Jesper really shouldn’t have been surprised.

He wasn’t surprised as he left the café, Wylan at his side. The sky rippling with colour as the sun prepared to set. The usual shadows of Ketterdam elongating but Jesper did not fear the dark.

“I felt, still feel, so guilty about leaving,” Jesper blurted, not intending to say those words before he had opened his mouth.

Wylan looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together as they wandered through the streets of the city they once ruled. “Why?”

“Because I was- I was abandoning you. And Marya. After everything we’d gone through,” his breath hitched and Jesper stared up at the stars beginning to emerge. “I was throwing it all away. I was selfish. There was something else I could’ve done. Anything else. I could have... I could have-”

His gaze was only brought back down to earth when he felt a hand press against his, holding tight.

“You didn’t abandon us Jes. I told you, we’d survive even without you. And we tried. Really, we _tried_. It was the only thing we could do at the time. It was the right choice Jes, please don’t regret it.” Wylan paused. “I was scared you hated me for it though. I felt I should’ve done more to convince you to stay, Saints know I wanted to. I should’ve done more in general but, in the end, I ran out of options and I failed you. I’m so sorry about that Jes”

“No, Wy, it’s not your fault, it never was.”

“Then it’s not your fault either,” Wylan assured and for the first time in five years, Jesper was beginning to believe it.

They had stopped in an alleyway just off the main road. Jesper laughed wetly and he wove their fingers together like he had done so many times before. 

“Saints, I’ve missed you.”

Wylan tilted his head up at him, confidence raising his eyebrow and leaving a smirk. “What, exactly, did you miss?”

“Hm, let’s see.” Jesper slowly stepped towards Wylan who took equal steps backwards until his back hit the wall. “I missed your skills on the flute.” Jesper free hand run up Wylan’s arm, fingers dancing to silent music along his skin. “I missed your boring mercher clothes.” 

Wylan’s jokingly indignant “Hey!” was quickly silenced as Jesper tugged on his collar.

“I missed your hair.” He moved Wylan’s curls away from his face. “I missed your freckles.” He met Wylan’s eyes before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek. As he pulled back, he chuckled. “And your blush.” He kissed his cheek again. 

Now he stared straight into Wylan’s eyes as they shared the same space and breathed the same air. “I missed your kindness to those in need. I missed your innocence which even the Barrel couldn’t destroy. I missed your ability to see the good in people. I missed your bravery and courage even when you were scared. I missed your quiet determination. I missed your talent to see and create beauty in the most awful of places. I missed your genius brain always working in overdrive. I missed your wit and your jokes. I missed the way you can always take me by surprise. I missed-”

But Jesper’s never-ending list was cut short when Wylan placed his free hand at the back of Jesper’s neck and, _finally_, closed the distance between them.

When they kissed, the time they had spent apart melted away. All the guilt and loneliness forgotten for this one moment. It was only them; Wylan and Jesper. 

But those years apart still mattered. Time had shaped then both through different hardships, some burdens they had both carried and others they journeyed alone. They have changed and grown due to the moments of laughter as well as tears; the times they ran into a fight as well as the nights they lay in different beds; their successes and failures. Everything mattered in the creation of them, Wylan and Jesper, as they are now.

And everything, every second, culminated into this one moment. This one kiss.

When Wylan pulled back to breathe, Jesper began kissing along Wylan’s jaw and down his neck, leaving marks he knew would be there in the morning. Not that either of them would be forgetting this.

If Jesper was a more poetic man, he might say that the world released the breath it had held for so long. Their lips met each other’s once more. Again and again. The way rocks collided and tectonic plates moved. The way waterfalls crashed and rivers met the sea. Over and over. Oblivious to the passing of time. A basic principle of nature. Inevitable.

And as the pair caught their breaths, they smiled. Private smiles to each other lest they make the sun and stars jealous.

The smiles told of shared and separate pasts as well as hope for the future.

“Come on,” Wylan grinned once more taking Jesper’s hand who wished he would never let go, “there’s so much more I want to show you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a lot longer than I expected (like a lot) It’s been in the works for a long time so wow! I can’t believe it’s over! 
> 
> I just love the idea of the crows in the future helping to improve Ketterdam and other people’s lives.
> 
> Also I don’t know much about gambling addictions, I’ve done some research but it is largely based on my own interpretation of how Jesper is feeling.
> 
> [Go check out my tumblr bookdragonbeth!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bookdragonbeth)


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